Blog Feedhttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog
KirbySat, 16 Jun 2018 00:00:00 +0000The latest updates from our blogChronological Order’s Time Has Passedhttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/end-of-chronological-time
blog/end-of-chronological-time2018-06-16Following in the footsteps of social media giants Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and now YouTube, several other companies announced that they also would be jumping on the not-in-chronological order bandwagon.

Chronological Order, best known for appearances in “A Christmas Carol”, “Back to the Future”, and “A Land Before Time” was laid to rest early last year.

The Schalostic Corporation, on Monday, announced that chapters in upcoming books will no longer be in chronological order.

“We feel the chapters that a reader cares about most should come first. We plan to optimize the chapter order, starting with the moments of climax: action, intrigue, and passion. Filler, side plots, and introduction material will still be there, it just will be in a different order. We really think this is going to revolutionize the reading experience.”

Rondam Penguin Home has similar plans, only they plan to take things a step further. Not only will chapters no longer be in chronological order, but paragraphs within each chapter will also be sorted by algorithms, allowing the reader to see the most relevant paragraphs first.

Not to be outdone, Schister & Samone have stated that neither of these options goes far enough.

“At a time when algorithms know best, we shouldn’t be limiting ourselves to chapters and paragraphs. Our goal, by the end of the year, is to have our algorithms sorting not only sentences, but words, and sometimes even the letters within a word for optimal relevance and engagement.”

Along similar lines, the US Department of Education met last week to discuss reordering the alphabet. “It’s really unfair that commonly used and beloved letters such as E and T are not at the beginning of the alphabet,” said a spokesperson. “We’re looking into ways that we can fix this.”

The new proposed alphabet ordering is “E T A O N R I S H D L F C M U G Y P W B V K J X Q Z” and will be voted on this fall before the beginning of the new school year. (Fortunately, the alphabet melody will still work with the new ordering.)

Beloved furniture manufacturer IKEA has also decided that chronological order is a thing of the past. Starting later this year assembly manuals will cease to be written in chronological order.

“Most of the time, people really just need help with the complicated steps,” said an IKEA spokesperson for North America. “So we’re going to put those steps first. Ordering the steps from most complicated to least complicated is clearly a better way of doing things because it puts the most critical information where it’s easiest to be seen.”

“It just makes more sense.”

Even the clock industry is embracing the technological benefits offered by non-chronological timepieces. Both Relox and TimeY announced a series of watches which will reorder the numbers, based on the popularity rather than chronology.

“People love 5:00 PM, we even have songs about 5 o’clock, so why should the 5 be near the bottom of the watch when it could be at the top?” Asks Thomas Fredrik Olsen, founder of Timex who died in 1969. “So we put the less exciting numbers at the bottom of the watch, or maybe we just won’t even include those numbers at all. It’s not like anyone lives for 9:00 AM anyway.”

As always, we’ll continue to update you on the situation, though we may hold information back until the algorithms tell us to post.

]]>Webpage Takeover Experiencehttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/webpage-takeovers
blog/webpage-takeovers2017-08-09You're standing in the checkout line, waiting for the white-haired woman ahead of you to count out the correct change. Instead of tapping her phone to pay, like a modern individual, she is treating the poor cashier to a story about how and where she found each penny in her coin pouch. It's unclear if she's really old or simply insane.

Your eyes drift over the magazine rack and you roll your eyes at the top tabloid heading. But wait, [INTERESTING TOPICS] Monthly? That magazine is right up your ally. How have you never seen this before? Releasing your cart from the white-knuckle grip of annoyance, you pluck the glossy periodical out of the stand.

Opening to the headlining article, you start to read the first sentence.

"It's not every day you get to play with..." Is a far as you get before the pages are ripped out of your hands and you find yourself face to face with a young man wearing an intense smile. His teeth are so white they look fake. In fact, his whole smile, his whole face looks fake. He has long dark hair which has been slicked back, possibly with the natural oils extracted from his greasy head. His intense gaze oozes uncomfortableness the way a rotting peach oozes juices when you put too much pressure on it.

You jump back in surprise, but also because he's standing way too close. He smells like someone sprayed old cologne over a silk bouquet in a misguided attempt to make the flowers seem real. The only thing keeping you from falling over backwards is the fact that one of his black polished shoes is placed firmly over your right foot.

"Hi!" He says, not breaking eye contact. You're not even sure if he's blinking. "I noticed you are enjoying this article in [INTERESTING TOPICS] Monthly."

You eye the man warily, still trying to wrap your mind around who he is or why he's here.

"How would you like to receive special messages about [INTERESTING TOPICS] every hour of every day?" He asks, his head now tilted slightly, as if he is some sort of alien creature attempting to mimic human motions, the way a toaster might try to mimic an electric shaver.

He pauses, staring, to wait for your response. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with reality.

"W-What?" you finally stammer.

"Since you love [INTERESTING TOPICS] Monthly so much, we'd like you to know that we send out regular emails to everyone interested in our magazine." The intensity radiating from his face would be labeled 'liquefy' if he was a blender. "You don't want to miss out on these exclusive interesting articles, do you? Just write out your email address here." He holds out a pristine notepad. The thick stench of pleather is almost enough to make you gag.

"No. No. I don't want your emails. I don't want your magazine. I just wanted to glance at the article, but..."

You're interrupted by an annoyed cashier. "I can help the next customer."

“But, now I don’t want anything to do with you.” You finish. You try to move, but your foot is stuck.

"Please get off of my foot." You say as you try to turn away and pay for your groceries.

The man's smile never falters as he steps backwards, quietly disappearing around the corner. You shudder as you begin unloading your cart for the lady to ring up. This is a face you never hope to see again. A situation you never want to experience, but in the back of your mind, you know that webpage takeovers will find you again. Oh, they'll find you again, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

]]>Beauty and the Beasthttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/beauty-and-the-beast
blog/beauty-and-the-beast2017-03-29

Beauty and the Beast was released in China mid March and after watching the wonderful retelling of the classic tale I decided I should read the original story. Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve is a French author best known for her original story La Belle et la Bête. (Presumably it was written to help prepare young women for arranged marriages, but that puts a whole different level of spin on things.)

The story, most famously adapted to film by Disney in 1991, and now again in 2017, follows a similar plot, though is altered in many significant ways.

The Plot

The story's main character is introduced only as Beauty, the name she is called through the entire book. She has five sisters and six brothers, and while we don't really hear about her mother, we know her father is a successful merchant and the family is wealthy.

One day, everything goes wrong and the family, who is no longer wealthy, is forced to move to the countryside. When the father gets lost on an unsuccessful business trip he finds himself at the enchanted castle. He picks a rose for Beauty, but is caught in the act by the Beast who tells him he must die unless he brings him one of his daughters.

The Merchant returns to the castle in a month with Beauty who has accepted to take her father's punishment in his stead.

When the Beauty and the Beast get their first after dinner conversation together Beast promptly asks Beauty to marry him and she naturally declines. After drifting off to sleep, Beauty dreams of a handsome prince, the Unknown, who she immediately falls in love with. The next day she finds paintings of the Unknown around the castle.

Beauty's every wish is attended for, yet she continues to decline the daily marriage proposal. Eventually she is allowed to return home for two months to see her family. When she returns she finds Beast starved nearly to death and resolves to accept his marriage proposal when he next asks.

The morning after accepting the proposal Beauty awakes in her chambers to find the Unknown asleep on a nearby couch.

Now, at this point the audience has been given a few hints that the Beast and the Unknown are the same person, but there's no indication Beauty has made this connection. In fact, we're told that her love for the Unknown in her dreams is the reason she is unwilling to accept Beasts proposal.

However, she does not seem at all surprised by the intrusion of her dream lover into real life. She tries to wake him unsuccessfully at which point she gives up and we read:

"How delighted was she to find herself betrothed to him who alone had caused her to hesitate,"

ಠ_ಠ

Apparently this transformation is really more of a side note to than anything else.

Note: this is halfway through the book. Indeed, the climactic point of the film which leaves romantics in tears is glossed over midway through the novel. Typical French work. :P

Two new characters are introduced. The Queen and The Fairy. (There's two characters named The Fairy in this book.) The Queen is less than thrilled to discover her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law is merely the daughter of a merchant. Instead of clearing things up right away, The (good) Fairy waits a little bit before telling everyone that Beauty is actually a princess and also The Fairy's niece.

Again, no one seems surprised by this.

Next Unknown (the Prince) provides a lengthy monologue where he explains the history from his viewpoint. It takes up the next 15% of the novella and during that we find out several interesting things.

Beast is cursed because The (bad/ugly) Fairy made advances on him and he refused to marry her.

The curse had a very long and specific list of requirements to fulfill in order to be undone.

The (good) Fairy came up with the plan to catch the Merchant stealing a rose and ask for a daughter in return.

The (good) Fairy made Beast/Unknown/Prince invisible so he could watch Beauty as she strolled about the castle. #thatsnotcreepy

If Beauty is surprised by any of this, we are not told.

Lastly, a King shows up and The (good) Fairy has a monologue which fills the last quarter of the book and contains the political climate of the Fairy Kingdom and several unnecessary story elements.

Beauty is actually the daughter of The (good) Fairy's sister and the King. The (good) Fairy's sister gets in trouble for this relationship and is imprison in the Fairy Land jail. When Beauty's life is threatened as a baby, [by The (bad/ugly) Fairy, no less,] The (good) Fairy steps in to rescue her. The (good) Fairy encounters a sick baby who has just died and swaps Beauty in her place.

Oh, somewhere here Beauty was cursed by The (bad/ugly) Fairy to marry a beast... (ಠ_ಠ)

This is the type of contrived plot point which the modern reader could live without. It reeks of Season 6 development that pulls inconsequential events from earlier seasons and makes the audience stop suspending disbelief and start questioning motives.

The (good) Fairy sticks around just long enough to prophesy to the Merchant that his "daughter' Beauty will one day save his life before going off to do fairy things for 15 years... or something.

In a classic Gilbert and Sullivan style ending, everyone is reunited at the end of the book, even The (good) Fairy's sister shows up to be reunited with the King and Beauty's (adopted) family arrives for a month long wedding celebration.

The end.

Character Development

Sadly, the characters in this story are flat. The Prince is portrayed as a good, upright man with no faults. He is cursed due to someone else's selfish ambitions being thwarted. In fact, part of the curse involves him seeming simple minded so it's unclear if he could even be "taught" by Beauty as he is in later variations.

In the Disney retelling Beast is a flawed creature. He made a poor decision and is suffering the consequences. The audience is invited to watch him go from an angry, uncouth… er… beast, to a refined, well-mannered gentleman.

Similarly, in the book Beauty falls in love with the Unknown (the Prince) during her first night in the castle. The dream-world courtship is a foregone conclusion right from the start. What's more, she so intuitively makes the connection between the two characters after the transformation it's a real wonder why it doesn't happen more quickly.

In the film version the audience is treated to a musical montage where Beauty moves from her initial repulsion of Beast to realizing he has a tender heart under his fearsome facade.

Other Differences

While the book contains an assortment of monkeys, parrots, and other animals who either are or are acting under the influence of genii's provided by The (good) Fairy, there is no mention of talking furniture.

Additionally, there's no wilting rose, which is arguably the most iconic symbol to come out of this fairy tale.

The timeline of events seems to vary between tellings. In this version it seems that many years might have passed following the curse and prior to Beauty's arrival. It takes many months, maybe even longer before Beauty is allowed to return home, at which time she is gone for two months.

In the most recent film adaptation it's implied that the curse was perhaps only a couple years old. To see families reunited at the end of the film is heart-warming, but shortening the amount of time for the curse only serves to trivialize the main characters.

For the most emotional impact I would argue that Beast needs to be cursed for a sufficient length of time. Following the curse, I would imagine it takes several months to work through the various stages of grief. Following that, the former Prince would not quickly forget how to daintily eat soup or lose his manners. Only after years of being in Beast form, finally giving up hope, does the beacon of possibility return.

As an audience I want Beast to be at the low point and I need to be able to see it. In the book, I'm told he gave up hope, but I don't see it in his actions. His character is unbelievable.

Final Thoughts

While I like the overall plot, the telling of the story is sub par at best. The flowery language is would typically be wonderful for fairy tales is a muddled mess and the lack of distinguishing character names makes certain passages difficult to read. My favorite of such passages comes at the end of run on sentence describing the (bad/ugly) Fairy's antics.

"…because she said she reminded her of a daughter she had had by her husband, and who perished along with him."

Unfortunately, I am inclined to give La Belle et la Bête a big thumbs down. Published in 1740 it really is a "tale as old as time," but I find later renditions both easier to read and more cathartically fulfilling.

I broke my coffee plunger (aka: French Press.) It's a difficult thing to talk about because one term reminds you of a toilet and the second one sounds like the publisher of a daily paper. Also, it means I haven't had coffee yet.

This put me in a caffeinated pickle. (Note to self: get R&D working on Caffeinated Pickles.)

If you know me, you know that I don't like taking "no" for an answer. Especially when it means no coffee, no cake, or no Mario Kart. So I made a slow drip coffee maker using spare parts I found around the kitchen. Here's a step-by-step guide, should you find yourself in a similar situation.

step one: ingredients

Early on, before I got my small French Press, I bought a pack of small coffee filters. I figured they might come in handy making tea or coffee in the future, but I never had occasion to actually use them. If you don't have coffee filters lying around, you can probably substitute a paper towel, a clean kitchen rag, or (if your a fan of Folgers Custom Roast) an old gym sock.

1 Coffee Filter

1 Paper Cup

Two Chopsticks

A Sharp Knife

Coffee Grounds

Hot Water

Your Favorite Mug (Or any mug.)

boil the water

Boil water. If you have a tea kettle, electric or otherwise, that's perfect. If not, you can use just about any pot on the stovetop. If you have a microwave you could heat up water that way. It really doesn't matter how. Honestly, I kind of expect you're able to do this without much hand holding.

build the coffee percolator

While the water is heating up, take the paper cup and slice a small hole in the bottom of it using the sharp knife. Be careful! This is the most dangerous part of the process. Especially if you haven't had coffee yet. The hole should be small, but not too small. I made a little x with the knife and pulled back one or two of the little triangle flaps.

Next, put the coffee filter into the cup. This is probably the easiest part of the whole process.

Put coffee grounds into the filter. Depending on how well your filter sits in the cup, you might get some grounds into the cup. Just take it slow.

Set your favorite mug (or whatever mug you have) on the countertop, right side up. Put two chopsticks across the top of the mug parallel and about an inch or so apart.

Now set your paper cup on top of the chopsticks.

If you know anything about coffee, you probably see where this is going. In fact, you might have stopped at the ingredients list and figured it all out yourself. Good for you. You're well on your way to being a productive member of society.

Once the water has reached boiling point. (Maybe your kettle whistles or your electric kettle turns itself off.) Slowly pour the hot water into the paper cup. This could take a little bit of time. If your filter is smaller than your cup, be careful to not let the water carry the grounds over the sides of the filter. It may take a while to slowly pour the water into the filter and let it drain. Be patient. This will be worth it.

pat yourself on the back and enjoy your coffee

There you have it. Real, handcrafted coffee. Bonus points if you had to roast your own beans, grew your own tree, or own an Asian palm civet.

]]>Grouchy Gadgetshttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/grouchy-gadgets
blog/grouchy-gadgets2016-12-23My technology seems to be in a constant state of irritation these days. My iPod Touch has been acting particularly angsty, which only really makes sense if you consider that the first one was introduced in 2001, meaning the product (if not this particular device) is now well into its teens.

It wants to update to the latest software. Like any good parent I’m leery of letting my little bundle of joy do something new just because everyone else is doing it. I’m older, wiser, and know some of the unforeseen issues that might arise. But Mr. Music Player has no such inhibitions.

When I finally cave and allow it to download the requested update, my iPod spins its wheels for a few minutes before loudly announcing that it is unable to reach the update server. I can’t help myself and say: “See, I told you this was a bad idea, did you listen?” I’m sure I’ll make a great Dad someday.

A week or two later the clever little guy has apparently figured out how to download the update all on its own because without any prompting on my part, it informs me that it is going to automatically update between 11:00pm and 5:00am if it is plugged in and charging.

“That’s nice dear.” I’m patronizing in the same way I'd respond a five-year-old who informed me she was going to go purchase a car, or start a war with France.

The next morning, when I unplug Nimloth (yes, I named my iPod Nimloth. What do you want from me?) When I unplug Nimloth he yells, informing me the update will not be installed because the device is not plugged into a power source.

Apparently the whole 11 to five thing didn’t work out.

I can tell he’s upset due to the all caps text and unhealthy number of exclamation marks that follow with the occasional “1” interspersed. The button for dismissing the message simply reads “OK.” I really wish it said “Calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”

Of course seconds later he’s asking if he can update now or should he wait until later. There’s no option for “never” the same ways there’s no option for “we’ll talk after I’ve had my coffee.”

By this point I’ve lost whatever battle of willpower I thought I was fighting. I tap “Now” and set the unit aside. Maybe now I can get a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Several minutes later Nimloth is happily asking me for my passcode. I log in and am greeted with another screen asking me to log in with my Apple ID. Last time I logged into my iPod following an update I was immediately locked out and forced to change my Apple password. Once bitten twice shy. I tap “Skip.”

“ARE YoU sURE!?!?!1 THIS COUld effect youR iCLOUD SETTUP.” Sometimes I think Siri should be voiced by TeamFourStar.

“I’ll log in later, Nimloth.” I reply calmly, mostly in my head. “After I have my VPN up and running. I’m going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Why are you so uptight about this?”

With my VPN running, I open up iCloud settings to log in and put his mind at rest. There’s a “you need to accept the new terms of service” alert in the settings page. This is the third time I’ve seen this “terms of service.” And for the third time it attempts to load, then goes away. I never have a chance to accept.

I try to log in, but the iPod just hangs, either unable or unwilling to actually access the authentication server. I wait for the inevitable error message to pop-up, but it doesn’t. Either it worked or my iPod has finally decided to give up. Learn to pick your battles, buddy.

Mr. Nimloth was purchased with the specific purpose of playing music, audiobooks, and podcasts. I wanted a device separate from my iPhone for audio (and some visual) entertainment. It tends to be a little more ambitious than I would prefer. It is too self important. Technology should be making my life better. More enjoyable. Easier.

“THIS IPOD HASN’T BACKED UP TO THE ICLOUD IN OVER 6 WEEKS!” It screams at me one morning. It then tells me that it will backup to iCloud when it is plugged in and connected to WiFi. As if I don’t know how iCloud backup works or it doesn’t have a chance to do this, like, every night when it’s charging for eight hours straight.

But the things on my iPod are not really that important to me. With the spotty and slow internet at my apartment I’m not surprised it hasn’t backed up. You can’t tell your iPod not to backup, though. If you’re not backing up to iCloud you must back up to iTunes when you sync. This turns out to only be a temporary solution to my “stop bugging me” problem because a month later I’m getting a new message.

“This iPod was not backed up to iTunes because there is not enough free space on the disk... You monster.”

Yes. I probably should have bought a laptop with more than 128GB of disk space. In my defense, if iTunes backed up devices to the iTunes folder, rather than a hidden library folder, I wouldn’t be having this problem since my iTunes library lives on an external drive. A drive with plenty of free space.

Dealing with grouchy gadgets makes me feel old. I just want things to work. Ideally, I’d like my gadgets to be happy, though it would be best if they wanted me to be happy instead. Selfish little cretins. I feel like things worked better 10 years ago and that makes me feel even older. Sadly, there’s no fighting “progress.”

The good news is that my iPod is now up to date. At least for the next 15 minutes.

]]>The History of Paying for Thingshttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/the-history-of-paying-for-things
blog/the-history-of-paying-for-things2016-08-01Technology, noun: the means by which we optimistically make our lives more complicated.

I'm not very old, [Citation Needed] but I feel like purchasing things has become unnecessarily complicated in recent years. Let's take a look at the history of buying things.

A LONG TIME AGO (so long ago that I don't remember it because I am young)

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: We will get that ready for you, how do you intend to reimburse us?Man: Here's a small goat.Employee: That goat is too small. This meal is worth two of those size goats.Man: How about this baby lamb?Employee: We have no need for that lamb.Man: I'll throw in my pet owl, but that's my final offer.Employee: You have yourself a deal.

Bartering is complicated. It's a good thing we invented cash.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $5.99.Man: Here's a piece of cotton paper worth $10.Employee: Here's your change of four sheets of paper and a little metal token back.

Cash is easy. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $6.99.Man: Oh shoot, I have no cash on me.Employee: Well then no combo 2 for you.Man: What if I promise to pay you tomorrow?Employee: What if I still say no?Rich Man: I'll buy you a combo 2 meal if you pay me back tomorrow... with 19% interest!Man: Deal! I'm starving.

Okay, so obviously, credit cards are nice. Debit cards are handy too.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $7.99.Man: Oh shoot, I have no cash on me. But I have this plastic debit card.Employee: Swipe the card here.Man: It's asking for a PIN. But I don't have a PIN for this card.Employee: Press the Green/Red button to run your debit card as a credit card and then you don't have to put in a PIN.Man: Wow, I do love technology!

But apparently this isn't secure? Or something? Difficult to say. So we put small flat computers into our plastic credit cards.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $8.99.Man: I swiped my card but the small screen only beeps angrily at me.Employee: You need to insert your card into the chip reader.Man: Okay.Employee: Leave the card in the reader until it beeps angrily at you two times and then take it out.
(Several minutes pass.)Man: It didn't work.Employee: Let's try that again.
(Several minutes pass.)Man: Okay, it worked this time, but now I'm late to my appointment.

Sometimes the chip readers don't work, but that's okay because you can still swipe your card the old fashion way.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $9.99.Man: You have a slip of paper in the card slot.Employee: The chip reader doesn't work, just slide it.Man: Okay. Isn't that less secure though?Employee: Do you want your meal or not?Man: I'll just use my credit card to be safe.Employee: Please sign the pad.Man: I'm going to draw a smiley face instead.Employee: I can help whoever is next.

Carrying all these small cards can be really inconvenient, but fortunately we are all carrying around conveniently large mobile phones!

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $10.99.Man: Can I tap to pay?Employee: Yes.Man: It's asking for PIN, but I don't have one.Employee: I don't think there's a way around that... try inserting your card into the chip reader.Man: Okay I've just inserted my card into the chip reader, but it's still asking for a PIN.Employee: Just hit the Green/Yellow/Red button to skip the PIN and run it as a credit.Man: It's a good thing I have a bachelors degree in pushing buttons!

Fortunately, the way technology is going it's only going to get easier to buy stuff in the future.

Man: I would like a number 2 combo meal with a coke.Employee: That will be $11.99.Man: How about I give you my level 1507 Charizard and my 1283 Eevee?Employee: We're only accepting pokemon if they come with lures.Man: Hold on, I don't have any lures, but maybe the pokéstop here will... ...okay, um... still no lures, can I wait five minutes to try again?Employee: Sir, you're holding up the line.Man: Okay, one second. Let me just purchase some pokécoins here... might as well buy 1,200 of them for $9.99. I'll probably use them later too. Now I just have to spend 100 pokécoins on a lure module... Okay, I'll trade a lure module and my Charizard and Eevee for a number 2 combo meal?Employee: Okay, let me just hit the trade button here on my end. Good now insert your chip card into the reader.Man: Card is in the reader. Now it's asking for my PIN.Employee: If you don't have a poképin, you can hit the Green/Yellow/Red button to skip and run as a pokécredit instead.Man: Awesome!Employee: Okay, now just sign the pad.Man: I'm going to draw a Weedle instead.Employee: Next.

]]>Glimpses of Californiahttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/glimpses-of-california
blog/glimpses-of-california2016-07-01The following are small snippets of a larger, mostly unwritten, adventure. It's not meant to be a complete narrative, but rather short little glimpses into my vacation along the Pacific Coast Highway.

“Don’t be alarmed,” the pilot says over the PA system.

“When you start a sentence with ‘don’t worry’ or ‘don’t be afraid’ it’s usually followed with something worrisome or scary,” says the lady across the aisle. She laughs nervously with the people sitting to either side of her.

The plane door is still open as the last few passengers board, but the crew will be starting up one of the engines to “check some indicator lights.”

Hearing the words “don’t worry,” “engine,” and “indicator lights” in the same sentence is number 37 on the list of phrases which don’t inspire confidence on airplanes. I imagine the airplane spinning wildly in a circle, single engine roaring, wing crashing into the jetway, luggage spilling out of the unclosed compartments, and airport workers scrambling for cover as the rogue plane fails whatever engine test they are performing.

None of this happens. Instead something gets a little bit louder and then it gets quieter again. Several men in yellow safety vests enter, head to the front of the plane, and then head back out the exit. We’re apparently cleared for takeoff.

The lady next to me tenses as the plane touches down. Her hands tighten their grip on the the arm rests. We’re 20 minutes ahead of schedule, due—I assume, to the reckless abandon of our pilots and the newly tested engine indictor lights.

LAX is the 7th busiest airport in the world by passenger count, but traffic outside is light compared to my last trip. I find the pickup point for the Flyaway bus service to Van Nuys (pronounced closer to 'Van Nice.') It’s a $9 ride to North Hollywood where I’ll meet up with my good friend Aaron.

Aaron is a few years my junior and former student where I work. He's a buy the book kind of guy. The type of person who will walk to the crosswalk even if the street is completely devoid of traffic. He's tall and skinnier than a lamppost, but he's creative, intelligent, and a lot of fun to hang out with.

The bus fills to capacity as we stop at the different terminals. I move to the window seat and a boy asks if he can sit next to me. I smile and tell him he can. He’s Mexican by his appearance. He has big hair, wears a blue shirt and black puma athletic shorts. He sits quietly for the start of the hour-long ride and eventually falls asleep. His head rests on my shoulder as his his body goes limp.

Aaron picks me up from the well-lit glass and metal Flyaway terminal. We climb into his Honda CRV and we’re soon turning onto the 405 freeway. We make our way from the 405 to the 118, 23, and then 101. (I know, those numbers don't mean anything to me either.) We drive through Santa Barbara, looking for a place to eat or to stop by the beach since it's well after noon. Parking looks full until we reach Shoreline Park. It’s a little farther from the place I wanted to explore, but we don’t mind the exercise walking back. We walk south and soon find ourselves at the Shoreline Beach Cafe.

A short line of patrons are waiting to be seated, I’m told the wait is five to ten minutes. Our hostess is Rachel, a young woman with tan long legs. Her dark hair is mostly pulled back and there’s a sparkling stud on the right side of her nose. She wears a black tank top that shows off midriff above and below her bellybutton. A red flannel shirt is tied around her waist mostly masking her black shorts.

It takes around 30 seconds to be called for our table. We follow Rachel up a few steps to the main seating area. It’s an open air room covered by a canvas tent. The tent roof is layered, presumably to provide for better airflow. Three large poles hold up the center, each covered with slats of bamboo. The furniture is all plastic wood-lookalike material.

Our server is wearing a white shirt with a blue collar and blue shorts. A gold ring loops through her nasal septum. She brings us four dollar lemonades while we browse the menus. The daily special is the Shoreline Plate Lunch, Hawaiian Style. Caritas, Carne Asada, Spicy Seared Ahi & Beer Battered Shrimp served with Two Scoops of Rice and Cabbage Slaw.

The fish is seared on the outside yet the center is still raw and cold to the touch. The cole slaw is little more than shredded cabbage, but the meal is delicious. A sampling of fish and flavors. We eat and chat in the shade of the pavilion. A light breeze filters past our table.

The coastal highway is hilly and brown. Scattered trees and bushes offer small patches of green as the road winds inland and back toward shore. Every few miles there are vista points with neat views and accessible beaches.

Occasionally Aaron will grip the steering wheel with both hands. He leans forward, almost unconsciously. I notice this out of the corner of my eye, usually when we find ourselves in traffic. It’s an indication that some serious driving is about to happen.

Farther north the elevation begins to rise. The path to the ocean turns into steep drops of several hundred feet. The road narrows and begins to twist and turn as if Caltran engineers were replaced with an adolescent playing Roller Coaster Tycoon. The road banks as it takes the sharp corners. Sometimes southbound and northbound lanes bank in different directions.

The road is so narrow at points they barely had room to paint stripes. The white lines along the edge threaten to fall off into the ocean. A steep wall of rock is almost close enough I could reach out the passenger window and touch it. The GPS says we're 700 feet above sea level, but we can still see the water if we're brave enough to look down. Yellow signs with black numbers read 35, 30, and 25, but I'm sure we're traveling faster than that as we weave along the coastline.

The sun begins to drop in the sky; we’re driving directly into it. It’s blinding light hits the bug splattered window to create a piece of macabre artwork thats more opaque than clear. Windshield wipers give it a painterly quality, but don’t actually improve vision. Another tight corner plunges us back into the shadows and we can see again. The road takes a sharp drop downward to the valley between the hills. We cross a bridge and begin to climb back up as the road winds along the hillside taking us back to sunshine.

A section of the road is single lane. The southbound lane seems to be partially dismantled at a few spots. They are putting up a new guardrail. We wait at the stoplight until it turns green, the indicator that the coast is clear from oncoming traffic... hopefully.

Terrain changes from grassland and shrubs to forests and redwoods. The sun sinks below the horizon and visibility is now only hindered by turns in the road. All traffic seems to be heading south. It isn’t until we’re an hour from Monterey that we catch up with a slow moving RV towing a small car.

Mailboxes and signs for bus stops are hiding along the narrow roadway. Small gas stations and travel lodges appear at intervals. The wood buildings look quaint more reminiscent of northern Minnesota than California.

The morning is cloudy and cold window blows off the water. The sun ultimately loses it's short-lived battle for sky dominance. Fisherman's wharf is still waking up, only a few shops are open—trying to catch the morning patrons on their way to the whale watching tours.

I didn't pack for cold weather and the air is a it chilly. The walking path leads to a coast guard facilities and a long pier. Seals flop on the rocks like carcases. Their hides are the same color as the stones. A gate separates the pedestrian walk from the animals and prevents a good view of the local wildlife.

There's a dilapidated building with three doors. The roof is covered with seagull poop and three of the birds sit on the peak; one at each end, a third just off center. They all face the same direction. Three faded orange doors line the side, each slightly ajar. It appears they contain restrooms or storage rooms of some sort. A sign by the middle one says "no trespassing." Below the sign a seagull sits just inside the threshold. The scene looks beautifully fake.

We arrive back at the hotel right before checkout time. We're traveling light and Aaron has finished the paperwork before I even have my bags to the car. Our path between Monterey and Cupertino takes us down the steep climb, little side roads plunge downward at black diamond angles.

The wind is savage. It’s the equivalent of having the windows rolled down on the highway, but worse. It whips in from the west crossing miles of open water before crashing up and over the grassy hills of Coyote Park. The grass is knee high and brown as bread. It whips around in the relentless wind. Seagulls inhabit the shallow water of the salt evaporation pools several dozen feet below.

From the top of the hill I see water stretching out to the south and west disappearing into a white haze. A dim silhouette of land is just visible to the east. The sky is empty, save for the airplanes which pass overhead at regular intervals. Algae and scum extend from the shoreline, brown and yellow organic patterns mimic satellite images of earth.

A man stands atop one of the shorter hills. A remote controlled glider circles above his head.
From our vantage point the model plan is nearly the size of the real ones.

We visit a Japanese Friendship Garden. Large shallow ponds hold koi capable of feeding a family. The water is mostly clear but it certainly isn't clean. A walking path winds around and across the pools. Several magnolia trees are in various stages of bloom.

Motel 6 is full. We're back in the CRV, both of us on our phones hotel hunting. There is some sort of musical festival and all the hotels seem to be booked. I'm running out of cell data and feeling the effects of low blood sugar. I threaten to walk to the Burger King if we don't have plans in the next few minutes. Aaron finds a place to stay. It's not exactly ideal in terms of price or accommodations, but it's a place to stay.

He turns the key in the ignition and all the engine indicator lights on the dashboard dim. The engine doesn't even turn over. He tried again with the same result.

"I have triple A," he says.

"I'm going to Burger King," I respond as I exit the vehicle.

The compressed sounds of saxophone blare from Aaron's white iPhone 6 upon my return. The hold music is distorted enough it could pass for an old school video game soundtrack. We're transfered twice before getting to the correct person.

The sun has set when a yellow truck pulls into the motel parking lot. It stops in front of our car and Ken gets out. Ken's been doing this for 15 years. He's had a long day, but he shows no signs of lethargy even at this late hour. Within a few minutes he has tested the engine battery and confirmed it is quite low. He suggests replacing it, rather than jumping it, otherwise we might have to go through this whole thing again.

It takes him only a few minutes to replace the unit. He chats constantly as he works, mostly repeating the same things about the battery being a small size. He inquires to where we're headed and we tell him this hotel is full so we're headed to an extended stay.

"How much do they want per night?" he asks.

"$180," Aaron responds.

"Son of a... shit." He tells us about a hotel just down the road. Aaron says that one is full too, but Ken's not having it. He calls the number. "Hey Dan, yeah, this is Ken. Hey, I'm usually there on the weekend by my cousins are in town today and they need a place to stay while I'm working... really? Where should they stay?"

He gets disconnected. He calls them back.

"Hey, it's Ken again. I think we got disconnected. So my cousins are in town and they need a place to stay. You always take good care of me when I'm there. Nothing? Where should they stay? Where should they stay?"

The call is very entertaining, but ultimately fruitless.

Pulling up to the gate a guard steps up to the driver's open window. He waves us through after checking aaron's drivers license and our engine indicator lights. We take a left at the intersection, driving slowly.

Air Force One is parked unceremoniously on the other side of the wire fence. President Obama is also in San Fransisco this week.

"I wasn't expecting to see Air Force One today," remarks Aaron. His comment makes me wonder if this is something he sometimes does expect.

A gigantic wireframe structure dominates our field of view to the right. It was originally used with zeppelins but now is just too much work to tear down.

The airfield is the campus for NASA Ames Research Center. I can only assume they do a lot of testing on important things like engine indicator lights. The Moffett Airplane Museum is also located here, our morning destination.

The museum is small, more like a storage building that just happens to be well curated. It feels cramped even though it has wide walking spaces. Photos and artifacts relating to te Moffett Air Force Base and zeppelin hangers line the walls and displays. Mannequins proudly wear uniforms donated or on loan from service men and women honored by the plaques and music clippings. Black plane models hang from the ceiling providing a sample of what the aircraft would look like as silhouettes. More detailed models reside in display cases. Most, if not all the models, are hand crafted, each modeling the design and dimensions of an actual ship.

Google feels more like a college campus than a business. Part of that is because it spans blocks. Small groups of people talk and laugh as they walk between buildings. Event planners are on site decorating for an event this evening. Everyone seems to be carrying tablets or laptops as they walk. Shirts with clever nerdy slogans or designs dominate the collective wardrobe.

We see inside a few buildings, mostly glimpses of the things Google is famous for. Our guide has to stop and ask for directions at one point. The guys he asks are just as clueless as we are. "Sorry, I have no idea. We're from the other side of campus."

The cafeteria we eat at is swarming. Lines of people everywhere. Every table is occupied, though not every seat is filled. Outside and inside small groups chat happily as the eat. Many people read on their phones as they sit alone, hunched over their plates of food.

The Apple cafeteria is similarly crowded at lunch time. There seems to be little order to the chaos. Where lines begin or end are vague concepts. I could spend time developing a perfect meal but I'm a guest and don't want to keep anyone waiting on me. I opt for convenience and short lines.

As we make our way to leave we see a shorter white haired man with a small group of people around him. He wears sunglasses and has a considerable beard. He holds a deck of cards in his hand and is having someone cut the deck as another visitor holds a single card. The magic trick is entertaining and completely wows the crowd.

He's an Apple engineer. As he prepares a second trick, he tells the audience that they need to keep they eyes on the deck of cards. "As I talk, you naturally look up at my eyes," he says. His audience looks up at his face. "Even though I'm wearing sunglasses." He performs another trick to the delight of everyone. From my distance of 15 or so feet away I can catch some of his slight of hand by watching the deck. If his audience could see it too they didn't show it.

We've been in the bay area for two and a half days but still haven't been down to San Francisco proper. The only real agenda item I have for this trip is to take photos of the Big Red Bridge that is colloquially referred to as the Golden Gate Bridge

Aaron parks near a shopping center and hails and Uber. The ride is silent, save for the noise coming from the radio—this apparently passes for music these days. The inclines are steep. There are a lot of buildings packed tightly together and few trees. We go up and then we go down. Some of the streets offer a straight sloping view down to the ocean. I wonder if the whole city feels like this. Can you judge a city based off a single street? The car jerks forward and stops just as quickly. These are the rapid reactions of an experienced driver. As we climbs upwards the iconic side-by-side houses abruptly turn into sparsely growing redwoods.

The bridge is busy. Locals and tourists pose for photos, snap selfies, and otherwise capturing the moment from every conceivable angle. We head up a few flights of stairs first. I'm eager to get some photos. It is mid afternoon, I can't really choose the time of day or the weather so I'll have to work with what I have. The sky is clear, the sun is bright, and the shadows are harsh. I get a handful of photos, doing my best to crop people out of the frame.

We head down to the fort. There are several scenic stops along the way and we pause for photos. The roof of the fort is brutal. Icy cold wind blows from the Pacific Ocean and sucks the heat from my bones. Even my newly acquired YouTube hoodie offers no protection from the elements.

I have to walk across the bridge. I couldn't get so close and not at least set foot to the midpoint of the mammoth structure. We head up the hill to where we can access the bridge foot path.

"...99 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall." A boy sings, walking alongside his dark haired mother.

"Shut up." The mother's sharp harsh rebuke shuts the boy up quickly. I suppress a laugh as they pass by going down. His sister follows behind him with another relative, they are also smirking at the interaction.

The walk across the Big Red Bridge is unpleasant. Wind whips from the ocean threatening to toss hats and handbags over the rail. Below, adventurers use sailboards to navigate the bay. Occasionally an ocean liner or freighter will pass underneath. It takes almost an hour to make the trek across.

Toward the far side I see a seal swimming and stop to take photos. It's a long drop to the shoreline from where I am. A man in a white uniform suddenly appears next to me.

"Any good whale activity?"

He has short curly red hair. I tell him I saw a seal. He tells me the whales were active near the middle of the bridge yesterday. We talk for a few minutes. I express surprise that the whales would be here, in such a busy area. He tells me it might be something seasonal. The middle of the bay is really deep. We chat for a few more minutes, I tell him I'm visiting from Minnesota and he tells me he just wanted to check to make sure everything is okay. He hops back in his little, white, three-wheeled patrol car and drives off.

The visitor center is criminally dirty. It consists of restrooms which reek of excrement. The floor is filthy and the stalls are even worse. I was hoping there might be a restaurant, coffee shop, or at least a vending machine, but it's clear that the mob of tourists would pillage and destroy any sort of establishment that might try to relocate here.

It's extremely busy. We stop to rest a while before walking back. Buses are dropping off and picking up tourists. Vacationers stop to take photos of the bridge and the bay from the northern side. There's a statue and some stone benches on which to sit. The walk back is against the wind and Aaron and I are both starting to tire out.

We park in the shade of a residential street. It's another LA neighborhood. A Thai temple sits at the corner where we turned. I'm led down the sidewalk past single story houses with stone yards. A mangy grey-brown cat sits by a tree. It's fur a near perfect camouflages for this environment.

"Hello cat," I say. It stares back with complete disinterest.

We turn into a large parking lot. It's mostly full of white Hondas and Toyotas.

The Worship Center is a huge auditorium with stone walls. The stones are smooth but uneven. It creates a cool esthetic. The carpeting and pew cushions are faded red. The room is laid out in a semicircle. A stage is in the middle of the far wall and the floor slopes upward to the double doors spaced along the back and side walls. Pews fan out from the stage with walkways at intervals. The ceiling is high. Theater lighting is hung to light the stage area. A four row choir loft is behind the main stage and in front of the far wall.

The room is huge. It holds 3000 people at capacity. Several hundred people are already there, but the space feels empty. Over the next 20 minutes the crowd more than triples in size. By the time the organ starts, two minutes before the service, the room is nearly full. It's not packed; a few sections of pews are stil open. The crowd noise has grown in intensity and gives the organ some decent competition.

The service runs for an hour and a half. We sing songs, the choir sings songs, and they show a video of their VBS program with 600 children. A few announcements are made and the preacher takes the stage. It feels more like a keynote address than a sermon. From someone use to small congregations and more traditional church services, this is quite the contrast.

After the service we walk over to a different building on the same campus. The room is smaller, meant to hold several hundred people instead of several thousand. The blonde wood floor is covered by rolls of flat black carpet. I get the impression this is a gym that is regularly converted to a worship hall, or a worship hall which is occasionally converted into a gym. There's no sign of basketball hoops.

DJ lights are mounted in the ceiling casting blue patches against the grey walls. The service starts about ten minutes late. It's similar to the first service, but geared toward a different, more specific, audience. The speaker is more jovial and the crowd responds with laughter at several points.

Aaron whips the CRV into an alleyway that moonlights as a newly plowed field on the weekends. The suv rocks like a boat as we head down the pseudo-street. We plunge back down into the street before climbing a steep ramp which doubles as the entrance to a parking lot. The car comes to rest in a lot between a purple sign reading "Babies R Us" (with a backwards 'R') and a long empty building which still houses a chipotle on the end.

The day has turned hot, oppressive even. The breeze offers little comfort and the shade offers no solace. We walk to the theater on the other end of the enormous parking lot to buy movie tickets. I am acutely aware that my hat is not on my head. It's back at Aaron's place; I wasn't anticipating so much outdoor-ing today.

Our movie isn't for another hour and a half, so we head off in search of frozen yogurt. We're joined by a couple of Aaron's friends. We had lunch with them only a few minutes ago, but they had to run some errands before meeting up with us to see Finding Dory.

]]>Spontaneous Holidayshttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/spontaneous-holidays
blog/spontaneous-holidays2016-01-02When you buy a home you enter a world of spontaneous holidays that are not celebrated by the rest of the civilized world. Holidays such as "new water heater day" or "my basement has three inches of water in it day." My latest celebration was "oh I guess my garage door isn't going up or down anymore day."

Of course, I could still use the door, it just had to be operated manually. As if I was some sort of cave man who had a new car, but hadn't yet discovered electricity. Even Fred Flintstone had a garage door opening dinosaur.

Like all major holidays this one involved spending too much money, hanging lights, and shooting fireworks at drunken carolers.

The old garage door opener was a product of the '50s. This was evident from its drab olive green color and the Sears branding along the back. Sears lost its relevancy around the same time as the color olive green did and neither of these things have been used to celebrate "x-garage-door-mas" in decades.

Shopping for these types of holidays is difficult. You're not only shopping for yourself, but also for future you, and the person who will own your house next. None of these people are going to buy you a gift in return and all of them will be disappointed.

The new garage door opener is grey and red--the colors of non-descript utility. Non-descript utility is the theme of the "St. Garage Door Opener" season. It's also the name of my cover band. We mostly play the "Garage-door-giving" classics.

12 Doors of Garages.

It closed upon a midnight clear.

You're a grand old door.

Shut up and drive.

Unlike Christmas, the beginning of "Gallodoorween" celebrations involve taking down the decorations from the last time this day was celebrated. If all goes well, some other poor chap can celebrate this day next time it comes around.

I strung up the Photo Eye Safety System™ with care,
It worked right away; that's one more answered prayer.

Originally I called up all my friends, to see if they wanted to join in the festivities, but neither of them were free. They also didn't believe this was a real holiday.

This year I got a 6' ladder for "New Garage Door Opener Day." This was a welcome gift, because when I celebrated "my other garage door opener is broken day" last year, I had to stand on a trash can for most of the party. At some parties, this might be appropriate, but this was not one of those.

It was truly a "Garage Door Fools" miracle! Not only was I able to fit the 6' tall fiber glass ladder into the trunk of my Ford Fiesta, I was also able to get it out again! Talk about awkward future conversations...

"The car is in good shape, only 100,000 miles on it. Still runs fine. The six foot ladder stuck in the trunk does extend into the back seat a 'little bit.' You also have to have the passenger seat forward all the way. No scratches on the paint job, though theres a few scuff marks and rips in the upholstery from when I tried to get the ladder out. Car was mostly driven on highways. Still gets great gas mileage."

"I'm sorry, did you say six foot ladder?"

Holidays like this one are varied in length. Sometimes they last for a few hours, other times they can last a week. They also vary in the amount of stress and grey hair they cause you. Fortunately this one only lasted a few hours and wasn't very hectic.

With wires strung and opener hung,
The door ran like clockwork.
Carolers came I took quick aim,
Lighting a firework.

]]>The Mythical Land of Texashttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/mythical-texas
blog/mythical-texas2015-12-19The first time I went to Texas it was cloudy and rainy the whole time I was there. I didn’t even see the sun until my flight had lifted above the clouds on the way home. Everyone tells me that this isn’t normal, but for me, that’s what Texas is.

Dear Philip,

I know how much you like to hear about my adventures, so I thought I would fill you in on the latest of my travels. As mentioned in a previous letter, I planned to visited my cousins in Texas over Thanksgiving.

I’ve never really traveled for Thanksgiving, unless you’re counting the stairs from my bedroom to the living room of my parent’s house. I spent a lot of time researching it (see photo below), and Thanksgiving is supposed to be the busiest travel day of the year.

I have a little bit of work to do in the morning, so I head to school. More importantly, I have no food in the house, so I figure I can have lunch in the cafeteria with my coworkers before taking off. It’s a slow Wednesday. The type of day when you’ve mentally clocked out and are physically just keeping the lights on until you can leave without anyone really noticing your absence.

The stuff I need to do takes an hour and the rest of the morning is spent hovering and walking around, trying to look busy. The weather is cloudy and dreary, the kind November is most famous for. The type of day that’s more fun to imagine than it is to experience.

I leave work and stop at home to get my suitcase and do a few last things before heading to the airport. I make the first mistake of my trip and remove my running gear from my bag before leaving. Home is 77 miles from the airport and traffic is the big unknown for me. It’s smooth sailing until mile 44 when I encounter a Wild Road Construction.

Wild Road Construction uses Merge Lanes. It’s super effective! (x_x)

Two lanes of traffic are being merged down into one lane of traffic right before a stoplight. Traffic is literally backed up in two lanes for two miles and it takes close to an hour for me to get through. Of course, I’m in the slow lane, because I’m in the lane that everyone is merging into. I watch two students from my department drive past in the left lane and they don’t even wave.

But things are good! When I get tired of my audio book I switch to Christmas Music and jam out to all the songs for the rest of the ride. When I get to the cities the traffic is light, its just a little before rush hour and any stop and go I encounter only adds a few more minute to my travel time.

When flying I park my car at the Park ’N Go, which is close to the airport, but a little bit cheaper. They have a manger scene on display at the entrance and Bible passages on their tickets. The attendant tells me they are valet parking due to the holiday rush. I die a little inside. The number of people I’ve let drive my car can be counted on one hand. I’m a week away from paying off my vehicle. It’s not that I don’t trust them… I just don’t know that I trust anyone.

I hand off my key and hop into the shuttle van. A handful of others join me. Collectively we’re flying American Airlines, Delta, and United. I’m the cheap skate flying United.

We get to the airport and I look around for a few seconds to figure out which line I’m supposed to be in. It’s difficult because I don’t see any lines. The place isn’t empty but it feels empty. It takes me less than ten minutes to get through security, and half of that was trying to find a bathroom.

The time is now 4:10pm and I have 3 hours before my flight leaves. I get some Chinese food. I sit for a while. Then I sit somewhere else for a while. Typical airport procedure. I’m restless and I need to move around. I walk to the main concourse where all the shops live. I admire the larger than life statue of Snoopy and keep walking along.

I love the feeling airports have. Small clusters of people walking. Everyone talking, lots of people are stressed out. MSP is by no means a dirty airport, but it doesn’t feel clean either. At least not in a “I could lay down on the floor and roll around” kind of way. The PA system is constantly spewing instructions, warnings, and updates. It’s like the setting of a dystopian teen novel. They call for someone with a comically fake name to return to the security desk to pick up a lost item.

The decor slowly shifts from shopping mall to swanky hotel the farther down the Terminal I go. I don’t know if this is a store or just part of the hallway, but it seems like the only way out is through, so I keep walking. The gates down here are empty of people, because everyone is at the bar. There are iPads everywhere. There’s one at every table… no, there’s an iPad at every chair. Some people are using them to order food or drinks, others are just on their own phones, messaging friends or playing candy crush. (Or whatever the new popular game is.)

Even the air here feels expensive which is my cue to exit. I head back through the strange hallway-store and take a right.

I’ve added a couple thousand steps to my fitbit for the day. I need a few thousand more to meet my goal so I keep walking. The stores and restaurants are more spread out along this wing of the airport but they all have iPads. towards the far end, there is a path that takes me all the way across to the north wing, which means I can do a loop and won’t have to retrace my steps.

On the other side things feel more open and well lit. There’s a children’s play place with another statue of Snoopy.

I finish my loop without much fan fair, there’s no finish line or cheering committee. It’s a little disappointing. Back at gate E5 I find a seat and shed my extra fleece layer. It’s 6pm so I still have some time before boarding and someone had the gall to place a Caribou Coffee store right across the hall. It’s too late for caffeine, but…

I order a decaf mocha because I’m an adult and I’m on vacation. Now it’s time to kill some time before my flight.

I’m not in a good mental state for reading or writing so I take some time to come up with some facts about Texas.

Texas is so large that it is actually it’s own state.

Due to it’s large size, Texas is home to the largest population of native Texans.

That’s all I am able to come up with.

Our plane is brand new, hot off the assembly line. The stewards carry off what looks like a 30 pound silica gel packet with the words “do not eat” stamped all over it. It’s nice to know that everything is new, presumably that means everything is also safe. Though, it also means that none of this equipment has a reliable track record yet. :/

New is great, but that 50,000 mile warranty for engine replacement isn’t going to be of much comfort if they stop working at, say, 30,000 feet. The captain reassuringly tells us that we’ll have a “mostly smooth ride.” I don’t know what that means. It’s like a bus driver coming on the PA and saying the trip will be “mostly accident-free.” Thanks. I wasn’t really worried, but now I’m wondering if I should be.

The flight is uneventful and almost as boring as Focus (staring Will Smith and that blonde actress.) The new model for plane entertainment is BYOD, which is actually awesome. I can just watch the movie on my iPod with my own earbuds.

The Houston George Bush Intercontinental Airport, or IAH, is apparently very nonchalant about which gates planes should use. We land, dock, and exit at Terminal B, but my cousin, let’s call her Marie, is at the United terminal, which is supposedly Terminal C. It takes me a few minutes to orientate myself and I hop on the closed-circuit subway which waddles over to Terminal C. This is where luggage gets picked up and there are glass walls, glass doors, and things that look like exits in every direction. It takes a few minutes but finally I find my way outside I see my cousin’s van. I climb in in we’re off!

It’s dark as I look out the windows on the drive, but I get the sense that this part of Texas is very flat. Beyond that, it doesn’t look that much different from Minnesota.

We’re driving to The Woodlands, which is a heavily populated area with the feel of a northern resort. Every street is lined with 50 foot tall trees and thick undergrowth on each side. You’re basically driving through a forest, except on the other side of the trees are houses, shopping malls, Walmart, or fast food joints. But like the elusive Bigfoot, you never see any of them.

The streets have names like Wandering Oak Dr., Tangle Brush Dr., and Hickorybark Dr. There’s also Panther Creek Dr., but I don’t think Texas has any Panthers, unless a Carolina sportsing team is in town. They have something against straight streets, especially in residential neighborhoods, which seem to be small clusters of houses lined by trees on the outside and accessed by roaming loops of road. A satellites view actually makes me think it might make for a neat coloring book.

Every house is two stories tall, which make them all look big, but they don’t have basements, so they probably aren’t any bigger than houses back home. Marie’s house is a split level house, so we have to go up a half set of stairs to get to the front door.

The house is warm in inviting. Earth tones and hardwood floors decorate the upstairs. There’s an L-shaped couch that silently begins calling my name the moment I see it. Pretty much every room with a chair also contains a television, though it’s difficult to determine if that is cause or effect. I am given a quick tour of the house and it’s occupants. The bedroom I’m staying in is the size of my living room back home and my roommate for the weekend is a white and black cat named Eggnog.

Besides Eggnog, they also have two dogs and a bird. I haven’t seen some of my cousins in maybe 10 years and it’s really neat to see them in their natural environment. My cousin has a teenage daughter, let’s call her Micki, who’s glued to her iPod touch like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. Let’s be honest, it probably is. A quick survey of the room: a few pieces of artwork, a plant which may or may not be real, a tv playing old episodes of That’s so Raven, and a birdcage with a blanket over it. Yeah, I’d be on my iPod touch too.

Micki spends most of her time on Instagram, stalking strangers and using the messaging features that I didn’t even know existed. After the tour I let the couch seduce me and I watch the TV with Micki for a little bit before deciding it is time to sleep.

The room I’m staying in is big, but the bed is small. I need to lay at an angle to fit, but it’s comfy.

The next morning I’m up before anyone else. So I take some time to explore the kitchen and back porch. It’s not too long before everyone else is up after making coffee my cousin helps me make two small apple pies.

Oh, I should introduce a few more characters. Let’s call Marie’s husband Brad and their adopted son from Ethiopia, Sol. Sol is a mechanical genius who disassembled all of the family’s bikes for parts. He shows me his new moped, which is, as far as I can tell, a 150cc motor bolted to a three wheeled frame. It rides a few inches off the ground and gets up to 30 miles per hour. I’m told the seat is made with pillows and jackets and is wrapped in a shower curtain. I don’t know what’s more impressive, that he made this by himself or that he hasn’t killed himself with it yet.

Brad and Sol head to Kassie’s house to start cooking the turkey. I’m not on chronologist but it’s already past 10am and I realize I have no idea what the eating schedule is going to be like today.

Micki just got her learning permit and drives Marie and I to Kassie’s place. She’s still needs more experience behind the wheel, but she’s already driving better than most people who aren’t me, so that’s a great start.

We get to my other cousin’s house. It’s a single story building with lizards on the walls and a live snake above the front door. The first thing I notice upon entering is it smells like dog. I’ll later be introduced to the pets. The first is a four-foot-tall black great dane named Jack who wears an old grey hoody and has no concept of personal space. The second is a much more reasonably sized brown dog whose breed and name I never got acquainted with.

We take the pies to the kitchen where I meet the rest of my cousins. The small dining room table contains a large tray of sliced red and green peppers with dip and a tray of crackers and cheese. Let the snacking commence.

Brad and not-introduced-yet Tim are cooking the turkey on the grill because it’s too big for the oven. Everything else is in a queue to be cooked in the oven.

The football game is on the living room, but I head to the bedroom which doubles as the gaming room because I brought along Mario Kart.

I’ve been playing Mario Kart longer than some of my cousins have been alive. This would be a point in my favor, except they have been playing it since they could pick up a controller. We play Double Dash, because it’s the best, and a couple of my cousins are pretty good. I can hold my own, but I have to work to win. It’s fun. Tons of fun.

We play for a while, and then break for a bit to do other stuff. I try to hop around from one group to the next. This gives me a chance to talk and see everyone.

The grill runs out of propane, or at least that’s the rumor. So it delays eating time for a bit. Good thing we have peppers!

Turns out the snake I saw above the front door doesn’t belong there. Someone else sees it and they move it or get rid of it or something. I’m relaxing on the couch and don’t feel like moving when it all goes down.

Not all of the Texas family is able to be with us, so we write their names on pink solo cups. If they can’t be with us in person, at least they can be with us in Sharpie®.

When it’s finally time to eat the food is FANTASTIC. The turkey is great. Everything is delicious. Green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberries, and biscuits. There’s 4 types of pie. I fill up a plate with real food and then fill up a plate with pie. No point in waiting. The formal sit down and eat only takes about 15 or 20 minutes, and we are all hungry and eat quickly.

After supper the kids are playing some stupid shooting game again and I have to persuade them we need to play Mario Kart Wii. We finally get it going and play a couple rounds. The game is vastly inferior to Double Dash. Micki joins us after a while, but it’s after 6pm and she has a shopping trip planned with friends. She plays a few rounds and I am surprised with how good she is. Everyone said she was good, but she’s blowing me away… and she’s using the wheel. Which seems impossible. She beats me on Rainbow Road in a close finish of a race. I’d love to keep playing but we’ve been told it’s time to go.

We pack up the gear with the speed of a professional pit crew and are quickly on our way home. There’s drama over how many bags of leaf Micki gathered in the back yard. Honestly, the only indication of raking are the full bags of leafs, beyond that it is tough to tell any yard work has been done. Micki claims 17 bags of leaves. Marie says she only bought 10 bags, so 17 is just out of the question. I have a photo on my phone of the backyard. In the photo you can make out about 12 distinct bags for sure, but it’s far from conclusive evidence.

Counting the bags is important because it will determine how much money exchanges hands for shopping later. I count 16 bags later and take photographic evidence because I know you’re going to ask for proof when I write you.

Marie and I walk the dog around the road loop several times when we get back. It’s nice to chat with her and we talk about all kinds of things.

The next morning I am greeted by Eggnog who loudly complains I am not feeding him. He’s a loud cat and sounds a little bit like Snoopy when he cries.

I’ve never made french press coffee before, but I’ve been told with no uncertain terms, that I am welcome to anything in the house and I don’t need to ask. So I start boiling a pot of water on the stove and Google how to work the french press machine.

It works pretty well and my cousin is thrilled to have hot coffee when she gets up. We have to go pick up “hot mess” Micki who has finished her all night shopping spree and is waiting at a friends house. It’s a 45 minute drive to get her, but it doesn’t feel like it takes long at all. We’re on the freeway for a ways and then we’re in another tree lined neighborhood on Dude Street and then we’re pretty much there.

We find the right house and a gaggle of girls and children head out to the street. Marie gets out to greet the mom, I stay in the van and watch the stray dog who is running around the neighborhood having the time of his life.

Micki is wearing a sweatshirt that reads “hot mess” and red pants. She doesn’t look tired, but she’s apparently been up all night and she may have accidentally touched some spit on a stone bench. It’s hard to say. I’m only getting bits and pieces here.

This family is making gingerbread waffles and invites us to stay but Brad left his meds in the van and we need to get them back to him before he has to leave. I wish I could make up these types of plot twists, but it turns out I don’t actually need to.

Back home we deliver the tired girl to her room and the meds to the man. Then we take the dog for a walk… well, we take the dog that can walk for a walk. The other dog is still on bed rest.

I’m really regretting leaving my running shoes behind at this point because these trails are phenomenal. I would totally be trying to run every morning if I just hadn’t unpacked my gear.

Marie and I have been talking about coffee and beignets all day long, so that’s our next stop. We also need to get pico for breakfast tacos tomorrow. I’ve never had beignets before but they are delicious. It’s basically deep fried dough covered in powdered sugar. What’s not to like? I have four of the six we ordered.

We grab another coffee for Kassie and slip a Starbucks zarf on it so they don’t see where we really got it from.

We’re at a small strip mall which like everything else, appears to be in the middle of an isolated forest. The mall has mistletoe trees planted in front of it. It’s crazy to see mistletoe in nature. It’s apparently a real plant. The trees are young yet, maybe 10 to 15 feet tall. I’m not sure on mistletoe protocol, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of room under the trees for kissing at the moment.

By the time we get to Kassie’s it’s after 2pm. I grab some leftovers from the fridge. It feels like it should be 10am.

The afternoon is filled with a lot of laughter. It’s good to be able to hang out with my cousins and talk and laugh. It really helps me relax and feel like I’m on vacation.

We go for a walk to the nearby island. I hear there are snakes, turtles, and alligators around these parts, but we don’t see any thing except a lot of mosquitoes and gnats. For whatever reason they don’t bother me, but my other cousins get a lot of bug bites.

That evening Kassie puts up her Christmas Tree and I help with the lights and fluffing out the branches.

It’s dark and it’s time to leave. Marie needs her meds so we head back home. We chat for a little bit, but Marie goes to bed. I take my notebook and jot down a few things about the day. The notes are not nearly thorough enough, but it’s all I can do. I ask Micki a little bit about her day and what she does.

I learn some valuable things. She’s not willing to jump out of an airplane and Mikey is a butthead and we don’t want him to win ANTM. ANTM is on season 22 or something like that, which doesn’t seem possible, but who am I to tell them they’re wrong. It’s also important to know that a burglary happens every 16 seconds… if you trust this TV commercial.

Micki joins me on the couch and turns on Impractical Jokers. We watch for an hour or two which is fun. I don’t want to be the one who gives up first, but I also don’t want to regret staying up so late. I eventually cave and head to bed.

The next morning I’m up early and make coffee again. Still not sold on the french press, but it’s good and I have the hang of it now. When Marie gets up she makes breakfast tacos. They are delicious. I know you’d love them Philip and we’ll have to make them next time you’re in town. I’m actually thinking I should make a bunch and try freezing them, they’d be great for quick meals in the morning.

I help cleanup dishes and the counter afterwards. It’s a lazy day and Marie has come down with a cold. We watch a TV show which is basically a compilation of YouTube videos. It gets old after a bit, but it’s just a relentless stream that’s difficult to turn off.

We’ve heard that The Good Dinosaur is getting some mixed reviews and we decide we need to go see it. We invite Kassie and her son, and the rest of the family is going to go too! Kassie comes to pick us up and we head to the theater. It’s a big place. We get our tickets and popcorn and head to the large theater. It’s a large theater. Stadium seating and it can seat 596 people. The audience is only about half of that.

The movie is fantastic. I love it a lot. We all do.

After the movie we take Micki to a friend’s house where she’ll spend the night. She’s practically a nomad, moving from one house to the next, night after night. I say good bye, because I’ll be leaving early the next morning.

The rest of us go back to Marie’s place. We watch more internet-video-tv and chat. When Marie goes to bed, I join Brad downstairs to watch an episode of Game of Thrones from season one. The characters look so much younger just a few years back… and half of them are now dead.

I head to sleep. It’s a short night. My flight leaves at 7am so we need to leave around I don’t even know, but I’m up at 5:15am and packed and ready to go in 20 minutes. These four days have flown past, but they’ve been a lot of fun. I wish I could stay longer, but in a way, I’m also glad to be headed home. It’s just too rainy here.

Brad and I chat about the army and about Korea on the freeway to the airport. I’m headed to Gate C42. Brad thought I’d be leaving from Terminal A. The real reason everyone’s confused about United Airline terminals at IAH is this:

United flights at Houston Intercontinental depart from Terminals A, B, C and E, but check-in and baggage claim are not available at Terminal A. Customers with flights assigned to Terminal A should go to Terminal B for check-in and baggage claim.

Again, security lines are virtually non-existent. I have to wait for one person ahead of me before I am allowed through. Then it’s just a matter of finding C42. It takes me a few minutes to find the right sign and then I follow the path down to the gate. There’s really not much for stores or shops here. I consider getting a coffee, but on my map it looks like it’s a bit of a hike to get to one, and I’m actually mostly awake.

I upgraded my seat to give myself more leg room, but I’m still in loading group five. I wait for almost everyone else before heading aboard. There’s no one sitting next to me, so I move from the aisle to the window seat when we start moving.

The plane has to drive a long way before we find a runway. I begin to wonder if they just plan to drive the entire way to back to Minnesota. That’s a long trip at highway speeds, I can’t imagine making it at airplane taxiing pace. It takes a good half hour or so before we get to our runway. Then it’s take off time.

I’m kinda excited, because I want to see this place from the sky. What I don’t realize is that the low hanging clouds are only a couple hundred feet off the ground. By the time we reach the end of the runway, it’s completely white outside my window. Huh. That’s kinda cool I guess.

We break through the clouds and it’s the first time I’ve seen sun in four days. It’s beautiful. The white clouds look so tangible and the blue sky is amazing. I want to stay here forever… except I’m on an airplane and I’d rather be at home.

The plane passes through one cloud layer and then a second one. We’re flying high (literally) and it’s just a fantastic day.

When we get to Minneapolis there’s snow on the ground and little grids of houses. It’s as close to the opposite of The Woodlands as you can get. All the little ants look like cars from up here. Little models that would be fun to reach out and touch. As if they aren’t even real.

I love my luggage backpack because I can grab it and go. I walk off the plane and head to the parking structure to get a shuttle to Park ’N Go. I don’t need to wait long for one to arrive and I get a ride back to the lot. As we pull up I see them bring my car in from another nearby lot. They drop me off right next to it and I grab my bag and head out.

The car is cold, but seems to be in good working order. It’s tradition that whenever I travel my tire pressure light comes on. It came on when I was traveling on Wednesday and I make a mental note to check it at the gas station on my way back.

I’ve paid in advance, so all I need to do is show the guy my papers and he waves me through. I’m on the freeway headed home and it’s just past 10am.

I stop at a KwikTrip for fuel and food. I totally forget to check my tire, I make a note to stop somewhere else on my way home. The town right before home has another KwikTrip and I stop, but the air pump has an “out of order” sign on it. So I stop at the first KwikTrip in Mankato. There’s an empty black truck blocking the air pump and two vans with occupants sitting nearby. I’m not sure if they are trying to use the pump or making an exchange. I turn back out to the highway and head to another close by KwikTrip. This one has everything working and I find out that my rear driver side tire is about 15 pounds low on pressure. Yikes.

A few minutes later I’m home. Things are pretty quiet, so I turn on some Christmas music and put up my Christmas tree.

That pretty much wraps up my Texas adventure. I hope the details haven’t bored you too much. I will write again, as soon as I hear from you.

Merry Christmas!

- Philip

]]>Meet Garage Doorhttp://www.apatheticthursday.net/blog/meet-garage-door
blog/meet-garage-door2015-09-17Sometimes a project goes together so well that it is simply a joy to work on. It’s the way you imagine all your projects to be, but rarely are. This was one such project.

Meet GarageDoor.

GarageDoor is bad at his job, he’s old and doesn’t latch properly. He swings up and wastes vital head room for a good portion of the garage space, he…

What? No. I’m not telling them you’re a hero who survived multiple wint… because it’s not true… you’re a door… no. Because it’s my blog, that’s why. Of course I don’t like you, you aren’t good at… no… If you want to tell your side of the story, get your own blog.

Sorry about that.

Anyway. He had to go.

A month back I found a steel exterior door on craigslist for $10. I wanted to use it instead of GarageDoor. I imaged something like this:

Around 8 AM I started disassembling the hinge system for the door and carefully took it down. It was probably a two person job, but I took it slow and it went smoothly. Once down, I removed the few bolts that held the left and right sides together.

My dad showed up around 9:30 AM and we made a single trip to the hardware store for supplies.

Yeah. You read that. A single trip to the hardware store. Like I said, some projects are just a joy to work on.

We laid down some beats block so the small segment of wall would match the rest of the addition. While waiting for the cement to cure, we hung the steel door and put on the door knob. Then took a break for lunch.

Our break wasn’t quite enough for everything to cure completely, but it set enough that we felt comfortable putting the wall on next. I had a large number of 2x6s from my roofing project that we had already decided we would use for the wall.

The wall section we were making was about five feet long. We cut the wall studs to the right length and carefully set it in place. We had to be careful not to bump the half-inch bolts that we would later bolt the bottom board to. It was a little tricky, but not too difficult.

Again, I had kept the few extra pieces of OSB from my roofing project with this project in mind. We cut the sheet into pieces to fit and screwed it into place.

The instructions with the building permit (yeah… that’s another story…) said I needed to use a house wrap, which meant buying a 100 foot roll and using about 10 feet of it.

To match the existing siding, we bought two long boards of siding. We cut it to length and it was just enough to cover the new wall.

A little door trim and the project was done! We finished before 3 PM, which is just the right for a project of this size.

Several days later I borrowed a paint sprayer from work and gave it a few nice coats of white to match the rest of the garage wall. (This photo is after the first coat is on and it’s still a little blotchy. You can also see how off white the old siding is.)

This is one of my favorite improvements right now, giving me much better access to my garage and workspace.